


Overcoming the Jinx

by pipisafoat



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of Jinx's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overcoming the Jinx

It was Monday when she got the call. In keeping with Murphy's Law and the general shittiness of the universe, Marshall had just been talking about whether or not they should invite Jinx and Brandi to go to the beach with them that weekend. In the middle of his imitation of her mother, Mary held up a hand and, trying not to laugh, answered the phone.

_Mary Shannon.  
Brandi? Is that you?  
Brandi, talk to me.  
Are you crying? Why are you crying?  
Brandi, talk to me. What's happened? What's going on?  
No, wait, Bran--  
Yes, and who are you?  
What can I do for you, Officer? Is my sister in some kind of trouble?  
Well, stop pussyfooting around it and just tell me.  
...  
No, I'm still here. I heard you.  
And Brandi can't identify her own mother?  
Okay, fine, I'll be down there as soon as I can.  
No, I don't know. I'll make the arrangements.  
Yeah, no, thanks, Officer. Okay._

She looked up from her conversation to find Marshall sitting on the edge of her desk.

"What happened?"

She shrugged. "My mother was driving drunk again." A bitter almost-laugh escaped her. "Brandi was apparently in the passenger seat. It didn't _occur_ to her to drive. Now she's too hysterical to identify her officially."

He nodded. "Want a ride?"

"Sure."

She identified the body, got back in the car, and went straight back to work.

* * *

  


It was Tuesday when HR heard the story.

"I know you're only trying to do your job," Mary said placatingly, "but this is really none of your business."

Her partner looked up from his email at the unexpected tone. "Mary, just--"

"You don't have the authority to send me home," she said into the phone, far too calmly for Marshall's liking. "You certainly don't have the authority to kill my witnesses, which is what you're actually doing by trying to force me to take off."

When she hung up on them, it was a gentle setting-down of the phone rather than the violent, ear-shattering clatter Brenda in HR was probably accustomed to from her. Marshall took her to lunch an hour later, and by the end of the day, there were fresh roses on Brenda's desk, a peace offering she'd gotten used to since Mary's partner was assigned to her.

* * *

  
It was Wednesday when Mary asked her partner to go with her to a funeral home on their lunch break. Marshall's ridiculously varied knowledge happened to extend to coffins, and he'd volunteered his services.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I really think I should be speaking to the deceased's family," the overweight, overdressed mortician said for the third time, glancing past Marshall to the woman running her fingers slowly around the edges of the display coffins. "It's just our policy to deal directly with the grieving."

Marshall sighed and motioned for Mary to join them. "Tell this man why he's talking to me instead of you," he asked her, exasperated.

She smirked at him. "Because you have all the brains," she answered. "Mr Benjamin, I'll be glad to review any decisions the two of you make before they're finalized, but until then, my friend speaks for me. This will all go much more quickly and smoothly if you'd stop arguing that at every turn and just do your business." She smiled at the portly man and wandered away again.

Two hours later, Marshall almost wasn't surprised when Mary slid her hand into his and squeezed as she whispered, "Thanks." They went back to work, she argued with Brenda again, and Stan told Marshall in private that they could relax on their workload until this mess was taken care of; their boss would cover it personally.

* * *

  
It was Thursday when Mary realized a whole bunch of things she probably should have already noticed.

"Marshall, I haven't seen Brandi in two days."

He looked up from his crossword. "I talked her into staying with Raph for a few days. Four letter word for scheme?"

"Plan. With Raph?"

"Starts with an R. Yeah, it lets him feel useful without having him smothering you. Figured you might want her out of your hair, and she's actually dealing with it fairly well with him."

She thought for a minute. "Ruse. Thanks."

"No, thank _you_ , that fits."

A few minutes later, she looked up from her email. "Aunt Jennifer says she'll be down for the funeral, but I don't remember telling anyone... it's crossed off on my To-Do list, though."

"Relax," he said, frowning at the paper in front of him. "You're not going crazy. I took care of it for you. Didn't think about where everyone would stay, though. I can look for a hotel and reserve a block of rooms if you want."

She nodded. "I might have to take you up on that."

Ten minutes later, as Marshall triumphantly filled in the last words, Mary looked up again.

"Oh God, do I have to pick pallbearers?"

* * *

  
It was Friday when Marshall picked up his partner to start the drive to El Paso. Jinx had requested to buried there, though nobody could quite figure out why. She'd never been there in her life, as far as he could tell.

Mary emerged from the house with a duffel bag and a dress slung over her arm. Rolling his eyes, Marshall went to meet her.

"Don't you have a garment bag?"

"I'm sure you brought an extra one for me," she answered, handing him the dress. "Just like I'm sure you brought me a Coke and some junk food."

He shrugged. "Yeah, that's me. Marshall, protector of dresses and ruiner of arteries. I figured we'd stop for extra-salted fries and overly fatty burgers on our way out of town."

Less than four hours later, he shook her awake, wiped at the damp spot on his shoulder where she'd slept, and carried her bags in the hotel. They checked in under his name and went to a set of adjoined rooms one floor above the block reserved for the family and friends of Jinx Shannon.

* * *

  
It was Saturday when Mary insisted that they go home right after the funeral instead of staying over. She wouldn't even let him change into something more comfortable before almost pushing him to the parking lot.

In Socorro, Marshall pulled into the first restaurant he saw and got them a table. Their quiet dinner was going well when the waiter made the mistake of asking if either of them would like to try some wine.

"You know I'm driving if you do," Mary told her partner, looking somewhere around the knot of his tie. He shook his head politely at the waiter and shooed him away.

"You okay?" he asked for the first time all week but still, evidently, too soon.

She stood up, threw her napkin in his face, and didn't yell. "I'm fine, Marshall. Why wouldn't I be fine? It's just that we just left my mother's fucking funeral. In case you've forgotten, she fucking died because she was driving _drunk_ , and you. You sit here, acting like you're going to--" She snapped her mouth shut and ran to the restroom in the back of the restaurant.

When she didn't come out for several minutes, Marshall asked the young mother at the next table over to check on her for him. She reported that Mary was alone in there and that he'd probably better go in and check for himself. He handed her son back, thanked her, and cautiously pushed the door open.

"Mary?"

"Go away." He could see her knees under the stall door, facing the toilet.

"Not a chance," he answered, swinging the door open carefully. "You're stuck with me." He leaned over her and flushed the toilet.

"Go away."

It sounded a little less heartfelt this time, he noted, and he sat in the stall with her in silence for the next hour, until she finally stood up and washed her hands and face.

"Let's go home," she said quietly.

He paid the bill, followed her into the parking lot, and slid easily into the driver's seat. That night, all the alcohol in his house relocated to the old college fridge in the basement, and Marshall pushed all thoughts of cursed beverages to the back corners of his mind.

* * *

  
It was technically Sunday when Marshall woke up to find Mary standing awkwardly in his bedroom door. He blinked sleepily at her, lifted up one side of the sheet, and scooted over.

"I'll even let you have the warm spot," he mumbled, pulling the other pillow off the floor and back onto the bed.

When he curled around her less than a minute after she crawled in with him, she loosened his arm around her and murmured, "You schmoop." Marshall stayed awake even after she pretended to fall asleep, and if he stroked her hair while she cried, she chalked it up to sleepwalking and neither of them mentioned it in the morning.

* * *

  
It was Monday again when Brandi called Marshall to ask where Mary was staying. When he offered to give her sister back, she laughed at him.

"You know better than anyone how to handle her right now," she told him. "I'm dealing with myself again, but I'm glad she's with you. Keep her."

He nodded slowly, glad his partner was in talking to Stan. "Will do," he said, and suddenly the conversation was talking about more than the next few days.

"You're probably the only person who can," Brandi said seriously. "She didn't even notice that Raph was at... that Raph was there Saturday."

Marshall opened his mouth, but the door swung open and Mary came back to their space. "I know, but I don't think she's realized it yet."

Brandi sighed. "She will," and Marshall was left listening to dead air.

* * *

  
It was Tuesday when Stan gave them their responsibilities back, and it was one minute later that Tuesday when he told Marshall to make sure his partner took it easy. After the standard incredulous laughter and "Like I can make her do anything!", Mary stuck her head back in.

"You two do realize that this door isn't soundproof?" she asked.

Marshall grinned and grabbed her arm. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to actually soundproof a door when it doesn't even touch the floor completely?"

"Well, the builders had to skimp on the door to save money for your straitjacket," she returned. "Come on, we have people to see."

* * *

  
It took two more weeks and a particularly strong pot of coffee for Stan to confront Marshall about their revised living patterns. Marshall shrugged and denied nothing.

"Other people are starting to notice," he argued, wondering if his inspectors would change even if he ordered them to. "At least be discrete about it."

"Other people carpool," Marshall pointed out calmly. "Nothing for them to notice."

Stan sighed. "Other people haven't essentially moved in with their partners."

"So tell them it's all about saving the environment! We share gas, we share lights, we share electricity, we share--"

"If you say water, so help me God..."

Marshall smirked. "We share cable."

* * *

  
It was three months before they went out to dinner in a nice restaurant again. Marshall surprised Mary for her birthday, and she rolled her eyes, called him a romantic, and accepted. This time, when the waiter offered them wine, Mary smiled.

"You're still not driving," she told him quietly, "but I'm not going to flip on you this time."

He nodded at her and asked for a taste. A few minutes later, he had a glass of Cabernet to go with his steak.

She stole bites of steak and asparagus, and he pretended not to see, and when the wine was almost gone, she asked him if it was good.

He nodded. "Delicious. I'd offer you a taste, but..."

"Oh, I can think of a way," she said, and when her hand curved around the back of his neck and pulled his head down, he only resisted long enough to say "Real sneaky, Mary" before letting their lips touch.

After a brief moment of just feeling each other, Mary's tongue slid out and parted his lips. He pulled back briefly, intending to make sure she was _positive_ , and she mock-glared at him.

"You're not a messy drinker, Marshall," she told him. "That means the taste of the wine is on the inside of your mouth."

He started to remind her of her sneakiness, but then her tongue slipped between his lips and he forgot how to do anything besides be grateful.


End file.
